Something terrible happened this morning. I got up and barely had enough coffee beans left to make myself a cup. Whereas my husband is a coffee snob, I'm simply an addict, who likes the good stuff. I need my coffee in the morning, one or two cups, and usually another one after lunch, unless I'm doing something exciting and remote like climbing a mountain, and then I might forget about everything else. If I'm not, I might settle for cheap cafeteria coffee, when the caffeine withdrawal headache hits me after lunch, and I should really be writing up some reports rather than staring at the computer. I'm sitting here this morning, telling you about this, sipping my hot cup of deliciousness, and I feel strangely unsettled, on the edge, like something isn't right. Something truly isn't though, I have no coffee back up. Sure, I can just go to the store or the coffee shop and get my fix. But see, I'm kind of in my pyjamas, un-showered, have convinced Graham to walk Noodle this morning, and I have no desire to leave the house. So there you have it. First world problem.
